


You call him Love

by afinecollector (orphan_account)



Series: No More Heroes [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Brothers, Hospital, Injury, Johnlock - Freeform, Love, M/M, Nickname, True Love, endearment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-20 11:56:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9490019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/afinecollector
Summary: In theNo More Heroes'verse; an unrelated side-fic, in which Mycroft addresses John's term of endearment for Sherlock.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Boton](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boton/gifts).



"Why _Love_?" 

John turned around with a jump at the sudden deep voice over his shoulder. Mycroft had managed to silently creep up on him and had watched and listened as John excused himself from the side room to allow the nurses access to Sherlock with some semblance of privacy. He frowned at the tall man, perplexed by his ability to sneak up on him, and by his question. "What?" 

"You call him _Love_ ," Mycroft said, inclining his head toward the closed door into the side room where Sherlock was being poked and prodded. "My question is why that word in particular. I understand why, on a familial and sentimental sense, what I mean is why that word - you could shorten his name, you could call him _Dear_ , but you call him _Love_. It's an all-encompassing word, a word with strong connotations; of all the things in the world you could call him, you chose that. Why?" He tipped the edge of his umbrella off of the polished floor beneath his feet and flicked his eyes over John's exhausted face. 

"All of the above," John said, simply. "I _do_ love him, he is my heart...," He shrugged his shoulders. "Lock slips out occasionally, but _Love_ fits; it feels right when the word replaces his name, it feels accurate - it feels like a description of what I see when I look at him, what I feel when I'm with him, of what exists between us whether we're close or far apart. And I know that that sounds corny, it is, but it's as honest as I can be. You're right," he held out his hand to Mycroft, "It is an all-encompassing word, and I'm glad of that. _Love_ explains how I feel simply, despite the word being far from simple. For four letters, it has a big bounce." 

Mycroft raised his eyebrows slowly, looking for all the world like he was appreciative of the validation in John's explanation. "I thought as much," he said, quietly, and made a face that wrinkled his chin as he drew down his lips. "Amaze me as it still does that somebody outside of the family can penetrate that man's skull," He said, his eyes firmly on John, "I'm thankful that you have." 

John regarded him, unsure what to say or do in response. He pushed his hands into the pockets of his trousers and smiled to himself. When he caught Mycroft looking at him questioningly, he shook his head, "...I never really thought about a term of endearment packing such a punch before he was shot. But calling him Sherlock at the moment feels icy and unloving; Love works, because it's true." 

Mycroft tilted his head. "Hmm," he wet his lips. "True _Love_." 

John smiled and nodded, amused at his unintentional pun. "True _Love_."


End file.
